


Mac and Dennis Find Their Pride

by glennjaminhow



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Abusive Parents, Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Canon Gay Character, Catholic Guilt, Codependency, Coming Out, Daddy Issues, Dysfunctional Relationships, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Post Mac Finds His Pride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 08:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16552253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glennjaminhow/pseuds/glennjaminhow
Summary: “I didn't wanna do this! Y-You came out to your dad today, Mac, and that’s great. I-I know it didn’t go like you wanted it to, but that’s huge, and I’m taking it away from you right now. I always take everything away from you! And I don’t want it to be like that because I love you!”Post 13x10 'Mac Finds His Pride.'





	Mac and Dennis Find Their Pride

He feels better, a little more whole and a little less sad, but he’s always painfully, acutely aware that this doesn’t solve his problems. Yeah, coming out to his dad in such a beautifully explosive way was well worth the risk for his own sanity, but something about it is false, almost like it doesn’t belong to him. He still doesn’t know where he fits in as Ronald McDonald, in the eyes of Catholicism, or as a gay man. He especially doesn’t know where he fits as Mac, the sheriff of Paddy’s Pub, master of karate and ocular patdowns and being incredibly strong.

He especially doesn’t know where he fits in within the context of the gang. Dee hasn’t been an issue lately, aside from her birdness and constant squawking; she’s actually been the most supportive as he comes to grips with his new identity, one formulated years ago and tucked away in a corner he was too scared to get near. Frank gets it now, maybe. Mac doesn’t know and doesn’t exactly care what the 75 year old man with an infected, meat-mush face thinks. Frank helped him today, but it doesn’t take away the years of ridicule and emasculation he faced. Even Charlie isn’t really an ally anymore because Mac doesn’t know how Charlie feels. They spend less time together and more time annoying the shit out of each other instead. Mac misses his best friend. 

And Dennis? He doesn’t get that dude at all. He isn’t even sure they’re acquaintances at this point.

Dennis pokes fun at his weight. Dennis picks apart his every movement, his every breath, just literally everything. Dennis doesn’t care that Mac’s a jack ripped beefcake. Dennis doesn’t seem to care about him period. After the whole ‘time’s up’ scheme, where Dennis told Mac it was never going to happen between the two of them and to stop kissing him, Mac backed off. Dennis stopped reaching out for comfort. Dennis stopped talking to him in the confounds of their apartment – their safe haven – pretty much altogether. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand.

It’s why Mac dreads going home and tries to avoid it for as long as possible. But Frank keeps trying to talk to him, spouting nonsense about ‘not knowing gays are like that’ and how ‘weird as shit’ his coming out performance to his dad was. Frank thinks he gets it, but Mac knows he truly never will. No one gets it unless they’ve been there themselves, not 100% at least. His dad left immediately after the dance, an expression of himself in live color for Luther McDonald. He doesn’t know how his dad feels. Maybe he doesn’t feel anything. Mac doesn’t get this either.

But it’s a cold, windy, dreary November day, and that fucking pride float the gang wanted him to do so badly will be making its rounds across Philly, so he bolts back to the apartment. The moment the door is securely locked, Mac sinks to the floor, hands limp at his sides and legs spread out in front of him. Empty. Defeated. Nothing is any easier than it was this morning when he woke up, confused and scared and angry at who he’s become, of who he’s trying to be, of who he wants to run to for comfort and escape from all at the same time.

He wants to find his pride; he really does. But he isn’t sure it exists. He doesn’t want a relationship. He doesn’t want to even look at other people – dudes – because it hurts. Everything is harder now that he’s out of the closet when he thought it was supposed to be easier. And then Dennis left to fucking North Dakota for 18 months. Dennis fucking abandoned him here in Philly by himself, even though he’s the reason – the true reason – why Mac finally came out in the first place.

Mac wants to make Dennis proud. He always has.

But Dennis doesn’t want him, and he’s just… He just… He doesn’t understand why nothing about this is easy.

Mac sighs and lets a few tears stream down his cheeks. Men don’t cry. Well, at least they’re not supposed to. But fuck it. Mac’s a gay man. He’s already broken all the rules of being a man worthy of eternity in Heaven, so why should he give a fuck anymore?

He looks listlessly around the apartment, the one he replicated perfectly to match the way things were before. Before. When everything made sense, and Dennis and Mac were best friends. When Paddy’s Pub was awesome as shit. When Charlie used to find new ways to make him laugh all the time, full and light and boldly. He misses it. He misses the way things were before he tore his own life apart for someone who can’t give him the time of day. Before he spent countless nights drinking away the pain because that someone abandoned him for a fucking kid he didn’t even know. Before he started sobbing and not sleeping and having nervous breakdowns over protein powder crumbs and locked doors and spying Dennis' preferred cigarette brand at a gas station.

Mac wants to be numb to it all, but it’s really hard to be when Dennis’ bedroom is open, and he hears Charlie saying Dennis doesn’t wanna drive the float anymore because he’s claustrophobic repeating in his head on a loop. Fuck. He doesn’t wanna fucking care about Dennis and his stupid fucking BPD and his anger and his anxiety and how exhausted he always seems, but Mac lives to serve and please. He doesn’t have his own thing. Not even being a gay man is his. It all belongs to Dennis.

Part of him wants to throw a temper tantrum. To erupt in a ball of tears on the floor and punch holes in the walls. Part of him wants to fucking light Dennis on fire for being such a Goddamn asshole all the fucking time. Part of him wants to go into that bedroom and kiss the shit outta Dennis to show him what he’s missing – what he gave up – here and then and now and before. But he won’t do any of these things because he can’t. That’s not who he is. And he’d rather help Dennis get into a better mental state before helping himself.

So Mac gets to his feet. Brushes his hands on his jeans. Runs a hand through his hair. Gulps. Psychs himself out before pulling himself together. Tries to quiet his heartbeat down because he’s sure everyone in Philly can hear it. Sweat drips from his hairline, and he just wants… He doesn’t know what he wants. He’s so fucking confused. But he’s gonna do this anyway because he can. Because he chooses to. Because he’s hardwired to do things for other people, even if he doesn’t really want to.

Mac knocks quietly on the open door. Dennis doesn’t acknowledge him from where he’s lying, on top of the comforter and staring at the wall. Mac almost tries again, but the noise may set Dennis off, and he knows for a fact the dude isn’t taking his meds anymore because they’re nowhere in sight, and he called his doctor here in Philly, and he’s looked too deep into it because Dennis needs those meds like how Mac needs Dennis in sight constantly. He enters the room and stands at the foot of the bed. Dennis’ doesn’t even glance in his direction. 

Dennis is shaking. Mac can tell how hard he’s trembling from here. His eyes are glassy and glazed over with fear or anger or anxiety or guilt or… something. Add it to the list of things Mac doesn’t know or can’t – won’t ever – understand. The wall becomes Dennis’ best friend at times like this because he doesn’t have to focus or acknowledge anything he’s avoiding or just anything in general. Before, Mac would scoop Dennis up in his arms and hold him like the world was crumbling around them because, shit, it may very well be, but not now. Now, touching Dennis is so far in the past Mac can’t even imagine what his skin feels like anymore.

“I came out to my dad today,” Mac whispers, voice unwavering. He doesn’t know why he’s saying this. Doesn’t know why he’s telling Dennis. 

Dennis doesn’t care anyway.

“It was really fucking scary, dude,” he continues. He sits in the plushy chair beside Dennis’ bed, scooting it back more so he doesn’t crowd – or intrude further – Dennis’ space. The last thing he needs right now is another patented Dennis speech on boundaries, how nothing will ever happen between them, how Mac is a giant piece of shit and waste of space. “I did this dance thing for him. I guess it was stupid. But it helped me feel a little more like who I want to be once it was over. And Dad just left without saying a word. Everyone else clapped and cheered and shit, but I didn’t get anything from him. Guess I shouldn’t have expected to.”

Dennis keeps staring at the wall. Guess he should’ve have expected anything from him either.

He almost gets up, but Dennis rolls on to his back. He’s wearing Mac’s black RIOT t-shirt; Mac inhales sharply and nearly cries again.

“I’m sorry,” Dennis whispers. “He’s a fucking prick.”

Mac nods frantically. “Yeah, bro. Such a fucking prick. Anyway, what’s goin’ on with you? You okay?”

He doesn’t bring up the claustrophobia thing. Doesn’t want Dennis to feel threatened or intimidated by what Mac already sorta knows.

Dennis shrugs. He looks small. Mac knows he’s lost a lot of weight because he’s seen the holes Dennis poked in his belt with a screwdriver. Seen the way his shirts hang off of him. Seen how tiny he looks when he’s curled up in bed once the day is over. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Mac asks instead, after too much time passes without an answer.

Dennis slowly shakes his head; Mac frowns. “Can you lay with me? I don’t feel very well.”

He nearly shits a brick, for lack of more elegant phrasing. “Yeah. Okay.”

Mac kicks off his boots, mind racing and heart thumping wildly, and sits down gently on the mattress. It’s thick memory foam and feels like a cloud cradling his body. He and Dennis used to sleep together – in the same bed that is – all the time. Mac got so used to Dennis’ bed before their apartment burned down that he had pajamas in Dennis’ dresser. It was great for drunken explorations and movie nights and everything else in between. Still, though, things are so different, and Mac doesn’t get too close in fear of ruining this. It’s the first time Dennis has reached out for a small bit of comfort since he left to go be a dad.

It doesn’t take long, though, before Dennis grabs Mac’s forearm with an overly warm hand, tugging him over until Mac’s arm is wrapped around Dennis’ too skinny waist. Mac holds his breath and does nothing else. Dennis smells like lavender and vanilla and cherries. His socked feet graze Mac’s shins. Dennis is still shaking, and Mac would do anything – absolutely anything – to make Dennis feel just a little bit better. What happened today almost feels distant, like a memory that isn’t his own, like it never even took place.

“I’m sorry, Mac,” Dennis says softly, so softly Mac barely hears it.

“For what, Den? You didn’t do anything.”

Dennis shudders. His body quakes. The floodgates open, and a tidal wave pours out. But it isn’t violent or explosive. Dennis doesn’t punch a wall and break his wrist. Dennis doesn’t hit Mac and give him a black eye or bloody nose or busted lip. Dennis just lies there without moving, and Mac doesn’t know what to do because this isn’t like before. He can’t scoop Dennis up in his arms. He can’t brush his hair from his forehead. He can’t help Dennis into something more comfortable than jeans and a t-shirt – Mac’s t-shirt – because Dennis likes to be warm. He can’t hold Dennis all night because he’s feverish from an impending and ongoing breakdown.

He can’t do anything.

It fucking sucks.

“I’ve been such an asshole to you…” Dennis eventually murmurs. His voice is shot and full of tears. His nose is stuffy. “I’ve always been such an asshole to you.”

Mac doesn’t know the right thing to say – never does, actually – so he just goes with the obligatory, “It’s okay, dude.”

“It isn’t okay!” Dennis exclaims. “It isn’t! I… I just want all of this to stop. I’m sorry, Mac… I’m really sorry.”

“Dude, what’s going –”

But Dennis beats him to it. “I stopped taking my meds. On purpose. I was miserable. The meds made me feel too much, and I didn’t wanna feel anything at all, especially not there. Especially without you… You always made me feel so safe, Mac. All I had to do was look at you, and you knew what kind of day I was having. I missed you. I didn’t wanna do it anymore.”

“Did you tell Mandy?” Mac asks quietly.

“No,” he whispers. “Too hard to.”

“Dennis, you gotta go back on your meds, man. They help you.”

“Fuck!” Dennis screams. Mac jumps. Shit. Shit shit shit. “I didn’t wanna do this! Y-You came out to your dad today, Mac, and that’s great. I-I know it didn’t go like you wanted it to, but that’s huge, and I’m taking it away from you right now. I always take everything away from you! And I don’t want it to be like that because I love you!”

Mac’s eyes widen. He doesn’t say anything. He’s so intensely afraid that Dennis will quickly take it all back, but he expects it. Dennis doesn’t just say things that openly and leave them there for Mac to think about.

But Dennis doesn’t take it back.

“I f-fucked up everything between us... I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

Dennis curls in a tight ball away from Mac, and Mac doesn’t know what to do or how to feel or anything at all. He’s stuck on ‘because I love you’ and can’t stop replaying it in his head like a skipping record. But he can’t focus on that. Not right now, at least. 

“Can I touch you?” he asks.

Dennis nods slowly. Mac wraps himself around Dennis, tugging a blanket from the foot of the bed over both of them. Dennis sniffles and quivers, and Mac holds him as close as possible. He doesn’t rub his hip or pepper kisses on his neck or hair. He doesn’t know what Dennis wants right now, and Mac doesn’t want to make this go away because, for whatever reason, it’s everything he’s ever wanted and more.

“Can I ask you something?” Mac questions quietly. 

Dennis nods again.

Mac exhales shakily. “Did you mean it?”

“Yes,” Dennis whispers.

“You love me?” Mac asks, triple checking because triple checking is the safest.

“Yes,” Dennis repeats. “It’s okay if you hate me.”

Mac wants to look Dennis in his beautiful baby blues for this, but Dennis needs to be in control right now, and Mac is trying to understand that. “I don’t hate you, Den. I could never hate you. You know that I love you too, right?”

Dennis shrugs.

“I do, Den. I love you.”

“I wanna get help,” Dennis whispers. “I… I can’t keep doing this to you…”

“We can get you help. I can help you with that. But don't just do it for me.”

“I won’t be perfect,” Dennis says. “I’ll never be perfect.”

Mac nods. Dennis places his overheated hand on top of Mac’s. His skin is as smooth and gentle as Mac remembers from 1992 and 1999 and 2005 and 2010. “You don’t have to be perfect, Den. You just have to be you. That’s who I fell in love with.”

“I love you,” Dennis repeats, and Mac knows – can tell with his keen ears – that Dennis is on the verge of exhaustion and shattering into pieces; Mac kinda feels the same right now, but they’ll get there. They’ll work on it.

Mac goes out on a limb and plants a small, quick kiss in Dennis’ curls. Dennis hums contently.

“I love you too, Den.”


End file.
